We're History
by Diana's Helper
Summary: Ginny's father dies, and she is left owing a certain family a ton of money. What will they make the Weasley's pay to keep them from Azkaban? Character Death, GinxDraco, Harry Hater
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to JKR. None of the characters are mine, however the plot IS mine. No stealing.

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_Heavenly Father, who art in heaven,  
Hallow be thy name…_

The droning of the priest was annoying her, the monotone voice in stark contrast to the emotion that could be felt all throughout the church. There was already muffled sobbing, and the service had barely started yet. She tried to think of it as a show of love, and sadness for the departed, but it was hard for her to even rationalize others crying. Her brown eyes, though confused, were not tearful. All those tears were locked behind cold eyes, and an even colder heart. The rest of her family was damn near embarrassing with their tears, but the youngest could not even bring herself to comfort them, for fear that they would hate her for not being able to cry. What kind of daughter could not cry over her father?

How had this happened? Everything had been going so well … so very well. There was happiness, peacefulness, things that he had always dreamed of, and now. Now, he was gone. He wouldn't even get to enjoy the world he fought so hard to protect; he would never see his children grow old. It was fitting that parents die before his children, but no one ever mentioned the desolation that it leaves behind, and the whole in a family. What about his wife? Did anyone think about that? She would never grow old with him, never again sleep in the same bed as him and feel his warmth next to her. So yes, it was fitting he died – but too soon. He had far too much left to do in his life.

_He is survived by his wife, Molly Weasley._

_His sons, Bill, Charles, Ronald, and George Weasley._

_And his daughter, Ginevra Weasley._

_Loving father, dedicated worker, never forget:_

_Arthur Weasley._

At least it's over, she thought to herself. Ginevra could not stand the thought of the service taking any longer, with some priest talking about her father – they didn't really know him anyway. This muggle service wasn't his style, though he had told Molly that he wanted to be buried this way, Ginny would have rather seen one of the family friends up there, not some priest who had barely known the family before his death. It was just so very wrong, though it was like Arthur to demand to be buried like the Muggles he was so curious about. Just because she understood why her father would do such a thing didn't mean that she condoned it.

Suddenly, just as the peak of the emotion had been reached, it was all over, and people were filing up to the coffin to say goodbye. Ginny followed her mother and her brothers out of the row that they had been placed (as the family of the deceased, the priest had said, they had to sit in the first row), and out towards the front of the church. From there, people would greet them and give their apologies for his untimely death; a few would even have the gall to say that they knew him well, but no one knew him better than his family.

It seemed to drag on forever, and Ginny was not paying attention when she was suddenly embraced by a tall, ebony haired boy, more of a man now. "I'm so sorry, Gin," Harry Potter whispered in her ear, and she forced her eyes to soften a bit, though she knew that he did not deserve any of your attention.

"It's not your fault." That was the phrase she had said most often lately.

"I know, but Gin. . . I loved him like my own dad."

"We all did."

"You seem so grim . . . are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Let's get out of here."

"No."

She tried to keep her answers to monosyllables, not wanting to have anything to do with Mr. Potter. A millionaire in his own right, the hot gossip around town was how he had cheated on a smitten Ginevra Weasley with the quidditch player, Cho Chang. The fact that he had even showed up at the funeral, even more so that he embraced her, would cause a storm of rumors, and if it weren't for the setting, Ginny would have hexed him then and there. Even she, unreligious as can be, could not bring herself to damn near kill him in front of the angel figurines that were absolutely everywhere.

"Molly Weasley! I am soooo sorry," a voice to her left simpered, and Ginny turned.

"Thank you, Narcissa," her mother was dealing with the Malfoy matriarch rather well, Ginny had to admit. There was an instant spike of dislike for the other woman, and her brown eyes slid from her faux blonde hair (it had gone gray long ago, it was whispered) to the man at her side. He was taller now, Draco Malfoy, but he had lost little of his shocking good looks, and remained just as athletic as he had been at school. It had been... one … two? Two years since they had graduated and last seen each other.

She didn't like him any more now.

"Weaslet," he nodded to her, his voice low so that his mother (and the rest of Ginny's family) couldn't hear him.

"Why are you here? You didn't even know, or like, my dad," her voice was a bit more hostile than she intended, or perhaps it was just perfect.

"Mother thought it would be best for us to show our compassion," he appeared to be gritting his teeth, and Ginny smiled at that. She could still drive him mad, even when he was 21 years-old and far from a boy. She liked that.

"You aren't crying," it wasn't a question; just a statement. Ginny ran a hand through her tumbling red curls, before shrugging.

"Why should I? He wouldn't have wanted me to." Her reply seemed too personal, and she looked away, before scooting closer to her mother, who was engaged in "polite" conversation with Narcissa.

"Well, Molly, we should be going. Let us know if you need something!" And with that, they were gone.

Ginnny heaved a sigh of relief. It was almost over. Time to go home and retreat to her room, to weep and grieve for her own. Still . . . she couldn't help but wonder – why had Draco come? He hadn't been required, it sounded like Narcissa was the only one who had needed to come. So why had he been at her father's funeral? There wasn't even a slight chance he had respected Arthur, so what then? Curiosity? That would be a sick kind of curiosity, and anger burned hot and fast. She would find out later, and confront him about it.

Now? It was time to go home. The home that felt too empty and too sad for her tastes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Harry Potter books. The plot is mine, however. : No stealing.

Thanks so much for all the watches and good reviews! Second chapter, by demand. :) Hope you like the twist and the cliffhanger.

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To Ginny Weasley, the house felt dead. This wasn't The Burrow that she had grown up in; her father had brought that place to life. Arthur Weasley had simply turned this house into a home, with just his presence. Now it was a cold, dark place – as forbidding as the funeral had been, and she felt watched by the stiff walls as she climbed the many steps to her bedroom. Over the years, she had traded to be allowed to have the one farthest from the first floor, so that she wouldn't have to listen to all the various nonsense that went on down there. The ghoul was long since gone; she had eradicated that within moments of taking her place in her new room, and it hadn't been hard to cow him into submission. Just a little bat bogey hex. That night they had feasted, and her father had told her he was proud of her.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in the last couple days, she felt like crying. It was the random memories that got her, the walls spoke lengths and volumes of how they spent their days together, from good times to bad times. She had known that the funeral wouldn't be a problem, but coming back here was the worst. She hadn't even walked anywhere near her parent's bed room, and in any case, Molly had been sleeping on the couch. _"Imagine sharing a bed with someone for thirty years of your life, and then trying to sleep in it after burying them. I can't. . . I would not have anyway of dealing with that."_ Ginny's thoughts were gloomy.

She flopped down on her bed, tastefully decorated with an olive and gray bedspread, her eyes closed, and unbidden flicked back a scene from about a week before.

"_Harry? Are you home?"_

_Her voice sounded painfully childish in her memory, and she could see it all from a birds-eye view, as though she had never been in the situation. It was an odd, out of body experience. "Harry, come on, don't be silly!" She called again, thinking that he was just hiding from her. The home he had taken in Godric's Hollow was an exact replica of what his childhood home would have looked like, had his parents not been murdered. Prowling around the first floor, she could hear some sounds coming from the second floor- voices._

_It was remarkable that she hadn't caught on there; instead, Ginny grabbed a knife from the kitchen, thinking that the house was being robbed. The front door hadn't been locked, after all, and Harry was usually anal about safety. Climbing the stairs slowly, (how strange that she hadn't thought to use magic), she peered around a corner and heard more voices coming from his bedroom. Her mouth set in a grim line, the youngest Weasley kicked open the cracked door and then her knife slid from frozen fingers._

_They would be right there, in front of her view. The movements on the bed paused, and Harry tried to pull himself together as Cho hid her face in the sheets and tried to cover up her state of dress, or lack thereof. _

"_Gin! You didn't … err… this isn't what it looks like!" He had never been all too eloquent with his words, and for a moment she thought about hexing him. Her eyes were blazing from anger and unshed tears, and when he moved towards her, to grab her arms, she spat in his face and ran, down the steps and out to the street, where she allowed her tears to fall._

_Fecking Harry Potter; she supposed that because he was rich, he thought that she was just some poor whore to take in. She'd always known that it would come to this … and she had once considered marrying him! Glancing back at the house, she turned and headed home._

_Ginny Weasley left him, and all the love she had for him, behind._

Her eyes opened, and she stared at the ceiling, which was painstakingly decorated with photographs of the people who meant the most to her. Remus and Tonks were up there, as well as many pictures of Fred, George, Ronald, Bill, and Charlie. The pictures of her father were right above her pillow though, and he waved back good naturedly, looking concerned and pointing at her cheeks. She touched them, and found them to be wet with tears. She hadn't even realized she was crying. Arthur had always been the one to point out the truths she didn't want to accept, and he was the parent she had been much closer to…

"NO!" A bellow from downstairs and then wild sobbing caught her attention. Even six stories up, she could hear it through the too thin walls, and recognized the voice as her mothers. Other voices joined in the crying, and they were all male – her brothers. Could it be possible that they were all comforting each other? No… That was not their style. Something was happening- what could be happening? Torn between hiding from the drama that was her family life and going down to see if everything was all right, she stood and looked out the window, just in time to see a figure hurrying away from the house. She could have sworn it looked like a house elf.

That decided it. She took the stairs three at a time, bursting into the kitchen, where the family was all gathered around the table, and Molly Weasley had her head in George's shoulder, sobbing. They all looked grim, and she was reminded of the moment that they had gotten the news of her father's death. The men all looked as though they had been speaking, but the moment she entered the room, all conversation stopped.

"What's going on?" She demanded, and her mother looked up at her tearfully, reaching out to touch a lock of her hair. The gesture was so unexpected that she pulled away, her brown eyes bewildered as she searched the eyes of her brothers. "Ron…" He was always the one who gave away the information, but this time he just looked at the ground. Did no one want to tell her?

Fixing on the letter, she grabbed it and shook it at everyone, causing flinches to go around the table. Ah, that was it. Her eyes scanned it, catching only the words "marriage," "money," and "your family". Relief flooded through her. No one was dying, everyone was okay. It just seemed like at some point someone was getting married. Shouldn't this be a happy thing? Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, which were jittering unpleasantly, she feigned a smile.

"So someone's getting married," her voice was faux cheerful. "Come on, Mum, it can't be as bad as Fleur- who's the lucky bride and groom?"

Bill shook his head and buried his face in his hands, as George and Fred exchanged looks. Charlie was the one who finally spoke. "Ginger…," he said, using the pet name that he had for her, and she flinched, her eyes widening, "It seems we owed the Malfoy's a lot of money—"

She interrupted him there. "So? What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're getting married. To Draco Malfoy. They're coming in an hour to pick you up."


End file.
